Denial

I walked around my house this weekend, minding my own business, doing my work, making dinner... until I stumbled into something in the living room. It stood there, large and shadowy, almost invisible. I sidestepped it and then tried to paint it different colors to fit the décor. It didn’t work. I jumped into the kitchen and stole a glance around the corner.

Finally I looked at it straight on and decided to deal with it. I had to get it out of my living room for one thing. I circled it looking for an opening or some recognizable form, wanting to challenge it. I asked God what he thought and then it came crashing back.

One year, two maybe. No three.

Three years since my niece and her baby son were martyred.

Denial is a blessing, isn’t it? It lets me continue, do my work, make dinner, function. All the while it sits in my living room covering up the beastly things.

I lift the facade and yes, terror is still there. Haven’t I dealt with it all before? When will it go away and stop claiming space in my room? I know the answer as I beg the question. It will leave when I have wrung out every last bit of the instance that is so painful, so deep and so very wounding which means maybe not in this life.

Ok, I scream, flinging off the shroud only to retch in tears for hours that become days, adding to weeks, unveiling my soul in the horror of the memories. Haven’t I forgiven it all? Haven’t I grieved every last bit? Why then is denial such a demanding visitor?

Ah, Kate. She loved animals and rude people. I chided her once for defending someone who was utterly awful and still she kept it up. Her pure heart was her downfall in this world but not in the next. There she will wear righteous robes. She witnessed evil first hand and chose to love. Today her life sings from the grave to the hearts of murderers to repent. And they hear her, somehow they hear her, death is powerless to silence her sweet lullaby.

Sing on, dear Kate, sing on.

                                        *********************

My niece, Katherine MacDougall, was killed by her fiancé, Taylor Hurst, on March 2, 2007. She was three months pregnant. When we found out what happened, Katie was dead for several days, her body finally discovered in her apartment by the authorities after her mother made continuous pleas to them to find her.

As a family we gathered at Paul's parent’s house in Dedham and together forgave Taylor. It was the only reasonable thing we could do. Forgiveness is not to be confused with reconciliation. Forgiveness is commanded by our Heavenly Father. Reconciliation is not.

Taylor is still battling his demons. We long for the day when he will let Jesus do that for him. We also know that we will see Katie and her baby again so our sorrow is not as great as it might be for Taylor who has yet to receive salvation. Please pray for him if God puts him on your heart. Katie has only been taken from us for a short while. Taylor might be taken forever.

We do not know what a day brings, but we do know a day is coming when the Lord will make all things right. Until then, we stand in the brilliance of his gaze and offer his mercy and his redemption to those who will hear. Sometimes it's a small sacrifice and other times it's unbearable but none of it can be compared with the glory to come.

"I see you."

Paul and I went to see Avatar the other night. I went kicking and screaming I have to admit. I detest the whole “capitalism kills your soul” routine. My views on capitalism are not communistic by a long shot. Although I do think capitalists must have social responsibility. In the end I was won by the lure of special effects. Ok, they were really good!

I noticed immediately that the natives all have large eyes and mild features making them seem like the good guys. And who doesn’t love a story of good versus evil even if the evil is us humans? The humans are the bad guys, inflicting pain on the harmless aliens, disrupting their lifestyles, etc. We’ve heard it all before.

The most significant thing for me was the intimacy among the natives. Jack learns to link his Avatar tail with other beings to communicate, but not with words, with his mind. That was clever, it strikes a primal chord – language has many forms as we know. And then, the greeting of intimacy, I see you.

High impact, those three monosyllabic words. I see you. It started me down a path of many thoughts. What if we saw each other the way God sees us? I know 90% of the population will cringe because they think God sees us as wicked sinners needing a savior. Yes and no. My impressions of God, since I was a very young child, have been that God sees us as his children needing a father. We’ve been orphaned on planet earth and held against our will to sin. He sent the posse, the prophets, and then sent his son to pay the jailer. Now, it’s a matter of time before we are completely redeemed after living out the rest of this earth sentence, like Jack having to live out his earthly lesser life while playing alien.

How many marriages would thrive if we simply said I see you? How many would fall apart? Some require honesty to survive and others need anonymity don’t they? How many teens long to hear those words from their parents and how many do not? Some lose their hearts to others who claim to see them while others hide all they can from those who see them and want to see them more. Children demand that we see them, no problem there, and if somehow we don’t, they wail until we do – they have it right, that yearning to be seen, to be noticed. How many a child’s heart would be quieted by those simple words, I see you. I see the drawing, I see your smile, I see your tears. Is it any wonder the small boy runs to his mother breathlessly interrupting her, risking her wrath, to exclaim, “Mom, did you SEE me?!” The little girl twirls in front of her father while he watches TV, knowing he will get annoyed, calling out to him to watch her; not to be rude, but to be seen.

The wicked say in their hearts that God is blind. The condemned say he sees and they fear. Those who answer his call rest in his forgiveness and look up to meet his gaze. God, who is always naked, says to his naked man in the garden, I see you, as he tromps around the place with his favorite couple. And isn’t that what God says to us outside the garden? I see you through those clothes you have on, covering your soul, hiding from the hand that made you, trying to fix it yourself… let me do that.

I see you, and then he adds, I want you.

Providence Strikes Again

I needed the car one day last week so I got up with Paul at 5:00 am to drive him to work. We were supposed to get up by 4:00 to shovel, so we booted to the mini-van in record time.

I love driving through Blue Hills on the way. Residential Boston ends and trees surround you. The stars are brilliant as city lights fade the deeper into the forest you go. It’s deer country so I plead with them to stay off the road while I’m there. A few times I’ve seen them and eagles as well. Going through one way was easy, the return trip was a bit tricky...

After dropping Paul off at work on the other side of the Hills, the roads were still quiet. I drove slowly through the ice on the reservoir road. The salt restrictions make it slippery there. I wondered what would happen if I veered off and decided to pull back down to 20 so I didn’t find out; it would be at least another hour before anyone discovered me if I ditched. The streets were fine that were salted but then I wondered about the Hills. I hadn’t really considered it before and thought of little deer feet making crunchy salt footprints everywhere; more than likely they don’t salt for that reason.

I turned into the Hills noticing I was very much alone. By daylight that is a treasured thing, but in the frosty pre-dawn, it was a little scary. I careened down a side road and quickly looking both ways saw no on-comers so I didn’t bother stopping for the sign. I’m not sure I could have anyway, the road wasn’t safe, my traction disappeared a few times. The vehicle that came up fast behind me was a snow plow. Good, if I wrecked, he’d help. If I’d waited at the stop sign, he would have been in front of me and perhaps wouldn’t have noticed if I suddenly wasn’t there. It was wisdom to blow the stop sign, it was better with him behind me.

Quite….

We caravanned through the hills with his lights bright in my rear view. I almost turned the little knob on the mirror to lessen the glare but we were moving into civilization so I didn’t bother. I’d change lanes in a few minutes and let him pass. His headlights beamed harshly in the rear view waiting at the light because he was closer and they were forcing me to wake up more, nooooo!

The light turned green and I gunned it into the second lane ahead, certain he’d claim the first lane to pass me.

When I moved through the intersection I didn’t see any flash of light in my rearview or side mirrors nor did I hear any truck motor. I checked everywhere slowing down. He couldn’t have turned, I would have caught that in my mirrors. I stopped the van and searched the empty intersection, listening to the tiny clicks of changing signals overhead. No cars, no trucks, one van, only mine.

A truck angel, I think he was a truck angel which means the roads were a lot worse than I knew, either that or I drove through the icy hills in my sleep, dreaming about obnoxious head lights… whichever was true, it was a miracle. Way to go, God!